My Tree

Its not exactly a poem but the substance of the context is so I believe this is where it best fits

The cold chill, even noticeable through my clothes, was turning me into stone. I could feel the damp crispness of the frosted grass as it tickled my cheek and pressed against my spine. The slight whisper of autumn leaves stirring in the breeze lulled me. As I turned my head to look up, the slight crunch of leaves disturbed the peacefulness. I sighed in contentment as I gazed up at the naked branches of the tree. The wind began to howl like a wolf as I watched it bite and snap making the tree groan as if it were in pain from the sting of cold. I inhaled and smelled the sweet tang of dew and the wonderful chill of autumn itself. The tree swayed, dancing with the breeze, drunken in its excitement to begin anew. With the taste of dew on my tongue and the beautiful orchestra of fall around me, I close my eyes and gently fall asleep under my tree.

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